Letter From Time
by Austra
Summary: Ami gets a desk, but Emma is the one who gets the adventure when they find a letter in the desk- one seemingly sent from Time. Can Emma change the contents of the letter? Can she choose between the life she was meant to live and the life she wants?
1. Chapter 1: The Request

**Letter from Time**, by _Austra_

**Chapter One: The Request**

"Hey Emma," an excited eight-year-old bubbled, "D'you know what I want for my birthday?"

"What?" Emma looked up absently from her computer where she sat typing out a story.

"Guess!"

Emma sighed. It wasn't really that hard. Ami had been saying this for the past few weeks, ever since Emma had gotten her new desk. "A desk," she said, still distractedly.

"Yes!" Ami all but squealed. "How did you know?"

"'Cause you been telling me every day."

"Yeah, I know. Hey Emma," she continued, oblivious to the fact that Emma was ignoring her, "talk to everyone else before you buy it, 'kay? 'Cause I've told everyone else to get me one too."

"Okay, Ami." The little girl with the bright sea-blue eyes rushed away, most likely to tell someone else.

Emma gave a sigh of relief and returned to her typing.

0o0o0o0o0

"Hey Emma," Ami whispered.

"Wha?" Emma muttered groggily, then waited for the reply. Most likely her sister wanted a drink of water or the like.

"Do you know what I want for my birthday?"

"No!"

"You don't?"

"I mean, 'no', as in, I want you to **be quiet** and let me sleep."

"Oh. Well, guess."

Emma groaned. "Ami, it's ten o'clock, and we both need our sleep. _Please _be quiet."

"I will, just guess."

"All right, all right! But after I do, you have to be _completely_ silent, understand?"

"Okay!"

"A desk."

"Yeah! 'Cause when I get a desk, then I'm gonna get a computer, and then I'll write stories just like you."

"Okay, that's nice. But Ami, I guessed, and you said you'd be quiet now."

"Okay. Emma, do you think I'll ever meet any of those other authors on fanfiction? Like LucyOfNarnia and King Caspian the Seafarer and AdrenalineRush16 and-"

"Ami," said Emma, sitting up in bed, "you should _not_ write on fanfiction."

"Why not?" Ami's voice was defiant. "_You _do."

Emma sensed that it wasn't that Ami wanted to be defiant so much as she wanted to be like her. She sighed. "Ami," she said gently, "you have great talent. You shouldn't waste it on fanfiction. I mean," she added hastily, before Ami could protest that Emma had talent too and that fanfiction was great, "I mean that- well, fanfiction was a great thing for me. It improved my writing tenfold. _But-_ you shouldn't- well, the thing is, it's easy to get addicted to."

"Yeah," Ami said slowly, "but _I_ wouldn't, Emma. I promise."

"That's what I said, Ami. But then- well, I'm not _addicted, _but I feel that it takes up too much of my time. And, Ami-" she raised a finger impressively, although Ami couldn't see her in the dark "-_and_, once you are on, once you have a profile- _you can __**never **__get off again."_

Suddenly she threw herself back on her pillow so that the rickety bunk bed shook. "That's it." she said, with a note of finality in her voice. "We're going to sleep. Good night."

"I wonder how soon Anita and Carol will be in," Ami murmured.

Emma shot back up. "And no asking Carol for stories, either."

Then she lay back down, determined not to be disturbed even if the roof collapsed.

"Emma, I think that you need to-" Emma tuned Ami out. In her head, she played the song, "Santa Fe" to lull her to sleep.

"Emma?" Emma could feel the bed shake as Ami clambered up to stare at her. Emma did her best fake sleeping.

"Emma." Ami nudged her gently. "Are you asleep?"

Emma did not respond.

Ami sighed and went back down. She didn't talk any more.

And for all that, Emma could not get to sleep for hours.

**Well, there's another one. I got the idea because this is really exactly what's been happening. But the names are changed.**

**-Austra**


	2. Chapter 2: Familiar Date

**Here's chapter two! Enjoy!**

"All right, now, where do you want to go first?"

"To the desks, of course!" Ami's eyes shone brightly as she looked up at her aunt.

"Of course." said Ruthie, her eyes glowing back.

"Now, let's see. . . which desk do you like the best?"

Ami looked each desk over carefully. "I don't know. . ." she said, with a timid little giggle. She looked up at Ruthie.

"Take your time," Ruthie's eyes twinkled, "we've got lots of it!" She laughed her pleasant laugh. Ami grinned. Ruthie was so much fun to be around!

Ami examined an old, brown desk, one with a great deal of scratches and the like on it. There was something endearing and almost sweet about it that made her linger beside it.

It looked a great deal like Carol and Emma's desks.

It had several drawers, and she peered into one or two of them, but saw nothing but dust. She opened one of them and saw something strange and white. But as she reached back to swipe it (thinking it was just some dust) it fell back behind the drawer, and she couldn't find it again.

But the strangest thing of all was that on the top of the desk, _just exactly_ like Carol's and Emma's, it had a piece of paper taped to it. It read,

"His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire."

_That's funny! _Thought Ami, for she remembered that Emma's and Carol's also had similar messages taped to them.

She called Aunt Ruthie over. "I think I want this one." she said, her eyes sparkling so brightly it was a wonder her aunt was not blinded by them.

"Well, let's look at the price." Ruthie read the tag. It said, "50.00".

Ruthie bit her lip. It was dreadfully expensive. She didn't know if she could afford it.

But Ami was already thinking. She looked the desk over. Eventually she cried, "Aunt Ruthie, look! Here's another tag! It says, 5.00! Maybe the other one was a misprint!"

"Well, let's ask the lady," said Ruthie, hoping with all her might that it would be five dollars and not fifty.

The lady, whose name tag said, "Caroline", started, "The desk is-" but broke off as she saw Ami's hopeful face. "It _is_ five dollars." she said, with a smile.

Ami looked so overjoyed that she almost burst. "Oh!" she gasped excitedly, "Oh, oh!"

Then she remembered her manners. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried.

0o0o0o0o0

Ami ecstatically recounted the events of the forenoon to Emma, who listened avidly.

Emma was strangely struck by how much it sounded identical to her and Carol's stories. Emma's desk had been forty-five dollars and the lady, seeing how much she loved it, lowered it to twenty; and Carol's had been thirty, and she had gotten it for two.

Ami and Emma read the script on all of the desks, wrote them down, and compared them. Emma's said,

"Nothing touches me that has not passed through the hands of my Heavenly Father. Nothing.

Everything that I endure is designed to prepare me for serving others more effectively. Everything."

Carol's said,

"You once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification. For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness."

And, of course, Ami's said,

"His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire."

After looking at them for quite some time, they noticed that, in the corner of each little slip of paper, was the date, "1899".

Emma felt that there was some reason why she should remember that date. There was something strangely familiar about it. . . "Of _course_!" she cried excitedly. "The newsies' strike!"

**There's the second chapter! I hope you like it!**

**Thanks to:**

**Rose Red Queen**

**LucyOfNarnia**

**Eavis**

**for reviewing! Your reviews mean a lot to me!**

**-Austra**


	3. Chapter 3: Trip to New York

**Well, finally, an update! =D Don't forget to nominate me and vote for me in the NYNA if you think I'm any good!**

Normal POV:

"_Emma,_" sighed Ami exasperatedly, "you always think _everything _has to do with "Newsies"!"

"No, darling!" Emma was still excited, "I don't just mean the _movie _"Newsies"; this _really _happened!"

"Oh," Ami said a little doubtfully.

Emma was too electrified to notice to really care. "Well," she whispered in awe, "let's keep these desks _very _nice, huh?"

"Yeah!" Ami was perfectly ready to keep them nice, "Newsies" excluded. It was enough for her that these desks were from way back in the past.

0o0o0o0o0

"Come _on _you guys!" Emma was about to burst with excitement, "it's time to go!"

"I just want to tell Caleb all the instructions again." Emma's mother replied gently.

"OK, but if you guys don't hurry, it's gonna take us _forever_ to get to New York!"

"Emma, the wedding isn't today, you know. And a couple of minutes isn't going to make much difference."

"Yes it does! It only takes a couple of minutes to stab someone!" Emma's thoughts were always wired that way. "In fact, if it were me, it would take less. It would take a couple of seconds! But anyway, come _on_!"

Emma was thrilled that they were going to _New York._ It was just too exciting for words. She had been there once, but that was when she was very, very little, and also- she hadn't watched "Newsies" then!

0o0o0o0o0

"_This _is New York?" Emma asked twelve hours later.

"Yes," replied Caleb, turning to give her an ironic look before turning his attention back to the road.

"Oh," Emma said in a small voice.

"We're not in 1899 anymore, Emma," Anita's voice was, like Caleb's, tinged with irony.

"I _know_ that," Emma said, giving her an annoyed glare, mainly because, in her heart of hearts, she hadn't really been expecting this.

"OK, now, _where_ is that hotel?" This was Caleb's girlfriend speaking. Madeline had traveled with them to New York because- well, because they'd wanted her.

And now, they couldn't find the hotel.

"Oh well," said Emma, her voice almost overflowing with sudden joy, "I suppose we'll have to sleep on the streets!"

"No." Caleb's voice was quite firm.

"Humph," muttered Emma, whose mind was filled with romanticized images which her stories boasted of.

"All right, I think this is it." They pulled into the parking lot of a nice-looking hotel. Caleb and Emma went inside to see about their reservations.

"Schearer, Schearer," the woman behind the counter said. "I don't believe we have anyone by that name."

"Oh," said Caleb rather blankly. "Well- um- could I use your phone to call my dad? Because my phone is dead, and, um, he was the one that got the reservations."

0o0o0o0o0

"All right," Emma said after thirty more minutes of driving, "now we _will _have to sleep on the streets!"

For some reason, even though they were lost and they had been kicked out of two hotels (well, not really _kicked_ out, per se, but it was close enough), they were all still in high good spirits. And they talked and joked and looked for another hotel.

0o0o0o0o0

They had found the hotel.

They fit nine people into one small hotel room.

Emma thought it was the most fun _ever, _especially when they had to stay in groups of three to do anything. _That _was what Emma called Adventure.

But the _real _Adventure hadn't half begun.

**Dun-dun-dun-dun! Yay! A third chapter! Please drop a line and tell me what you think!**

**-Austra**


	4. Chapter 4: Looking at the Letter

**Just thought I'd update one last time before finally leaving. *Tear* In case you're wondering what I'm talking about or if you haven't read my profile, I'm taking a break from for a few months. So this is hello and goodbye.**

Sitting all by herself in the hotel room, Emma took out the letter she'd found in Ami's desk, smoothed it, and read it silently to herself.

"_Dear Patrick,"_ it read in spidery script,

"_I'm so glad to hear that you got that job. _

_Remember, no matter what happens, our lives are in the Hands of the Almighty. Please don't forget that anything and, indeed, everything that happens in your life is for a reason. For His reasons. Even when we go through dark times, God has ordained them for a purpose. Don't ever forget that. _

_I love you, Patrick, and you know that. But don't ever forget that, as much as I love you, there is One Who loves you infinitely- One Who gave His life for you, who died the worst death possibly imaginable. Don't ever forget that everything is for a purpose, no matter how hard anything and everything might seem._

_Patrick, darling- I'm afraid I've got some very bad news. Don't tell anyone, but your father- well, the bank is having a hard time, and Father has lost all the money. If anyone finds out, we will be put in jail. And-"_

"Hmmm," Emma said aloud, scanning the lines again, "look at this."

She pointed out, to herself (as was her habit) that the letter broke off abruptly, and that the letter looked as though it had been hastily crammed into a ball- but just then her family came in the door. She hastily shoved it into her bag and started reading "The Ordinary Princess" with all her might.

That made her think of something.

She had just crammed that paper into her bag. _Maybe the lady was trying to hide it from something. _

Then she thought of what had just happened. _Or some__**one.**_

She nodded her head briskly; this was going to turn out to be one of her favourite kind of "figure-out-what-happened-some-hundred-years-ago" situation.

She loved those.

But it was much more fun when she could control the situation- say, in a story.

_Well,_ she reflected, _at least I'm not actually __**there.**__ At least I'm in my nice, comfortable room. __**Our**__ nice, comfortable room,_ she corrected herself.

But a traitorous little voice in the back of her head whispered, "But you _do _wish you were there, don't you?"

Emma was forced to confess that, yes, she _did_ wish she could time-travel.

"Well, why not now?" An enormous voice boomed.

**And I just **_**had **_**to leave it at a cliffhanger! Well, there you have it! Just wait and see what's going to happen! It's going to be so jolly!**

**-Austra**


	5. Chapter 5: Strange Things

**Whoa-ho-ho! An update after all! Aren't **_**you**_** lucky!**

Immediately, without even a chance to catch a glimpse of the source of the voice, Emma was whisked into- nothingness. Not blinding white, or darkness, or even blackness- it was sort of everything- and nothing. It's _much_ too hard to explain.

Then, suddenly, there was a flash of light that almost blinded her, and she saw images. They were dressed in strange clothes.

Then Emma realized that the clothes weren't strange- well, apart from the fact that they were from the '90s. Everything was two-dimensional, like a giant book with life-sized figures. As the shapes whipped past, she felt a sharp pang as she recognized one of them as her great-grandmother. Tears sprang into her eyes, but the shape was gone.

Then the people changed, and she realized that these were people from back in the '80s. The seventies and the sixties whipped past.

Emma looked down at her own clothes, grateful for them- but- what was this? Three things sank in at once, with an extremely deep shock. One, her clothes changed to match whatever time period they were in; two, she was wearing a _very_ immodest bathing suit (two-pieced, and she _never_ wore two-pieced ones) and three- (it was debatable whether this was more shocking than the second one) _she was two-dimensional._

"Do not worry," said the Voice. "You are not truly two-dimensional. It's just an illusion. Things are not always what they seem."

"Thank- thank you, Sir." Emma had read enough books to realize that this was not only informative, it was a warning; one she had better heed.

The fifties, the forties, the thirties, the twenties, and the tens (how funny that sounds! I'm not sure it's right!) all whirled by. She no longer paid attention to what _she_ looked like- she had decided it was altogether too disturbing.

Suddenly they came to a stop- a stop so abrupt that she felt as though she were on the wildest roller coaster ever. She threw up.

"Now, that's too bad," said the Voice sympathetically.

Emma dumbly nodded. Her legs were trembling so that she could not stand up. She lay on the ground, groaning. She was so scared, she passed out.

0o0o0o0o0

Hushed voices. "We all know what happened to her…"

"Should we take her in here...?"

"But surely she…"

"Why do girls…"

"Refuge…"

Upon catching that one last lone word, Emma jerked into painful awaked-ness. "What Refuge?" She asked wildly. She bolted up frantically off the bed she was lying on.

"Take it easy, miss, take it easy!"

She collapsed on the bed again. Her head hurt… so bad… all those boys… with those _really _weird clothes…

"Welcome," said the boy with the eyepatch, "to the Newsboys' Lodging House!"

What in Heaven's name was going on!

**Sorry for the short chapter- but hey, I updated!**

**-Austra**


	6. Chapter 6: Highly Disliked Work

**Wow, you guys are some pretty lucky people- that is, if you read this instead of going like, "Austra? Who's Austra? Wait, that name sounds familiar..." ;-P But anyway, this idea for this chapter has just been hanging around for so long... so here you are!**

**Emma's POV:**

"I _won't_ stay here, I won't, I won't! You can't make me!" I was throwing one of my famous temper tantrums. Although nearly fifteen, I am still very prone to stomp my feet and yell. But if you talked to me long enough, I would (almost) always give in.

"Emma," Jack sighed, "we've been through this at least twice. You can't sell papes. I'm tellin' ya. You think it's all fun and games and romance. Well, I would show ya different, but I don't want to spoil that pretty face of yours."

"I can fight!" I said, putting up my fists earnestly.

"You'd be down on the ground in seconds." Jack said flatly. "Your stance isn't even right. And besides that, you're puny."

That was _definitely _not a smart thing to say. "Am _not_." I threw a punch at him.

"Are _too_." He threw one at me, nearly knocking me over.

"Am _not_." I threw another and grasped my wrist in pain.

"Are- Emma! We don't- _I _don't- have time for this! Just clean the house like a good little girl. I gotta go."

"All right," I grumbled, trying to look sulky as I gazed at the floor, then "OOF!" as Jack pulled me into a bear hug. "Take care o' yerself, and don't go nowhere."

"Excuse me, Mr. Kelly, that's a double negative. Do you mean, 'Do go somewhere'?"

"I guess I meant that, yes?"

"No, you didn't, but it doesn't matter. Go on, scat!" I, now in high good spirits, whacked him with a towel and he fled, laughing.

I looked around the Lodging House and threw back my shoulders. "Let's do this thing," I said to myself.

* * *

**Third Person (normal POV)**

Half an hour later, Kloppman looked into the kitchen (which was hardly ever used) to see Emma energetically pumping water for the dirty, almost never used dishes, while singing a song that Kloppman had never heard.

Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules

Of someone else's game

Too late for second-guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try

Defying gravity

I think I'll try

Defying gravity

And you can't pull me down!

Can't I make you understand?

You're having delusions of grandeur:

I'm through accepting limits

'Cause someone says they're so

Some things I cannot change

But till I try, I'll never know!

Too long I've been afraid of

Losing love I guess I've lost

Well, if that's love

It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy

Defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye

I'm defying gravity

And you can't pull me down

Kloppman smiled to himself at the pretty picture the girl made; her dark curls (which were shockingly short) escaping her pins and gathering around her face, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and lips redder than Cowboy's handkerchief. Kloppman decided he something as she began the next verse and went away silently.

Glinda - come with me. Think of what we could do: together.

Unlimited

Together we're unlimited

Together we'll be the greatest team

There's ever been

Glinda -

Dreams, the way we planned 'em

If we work in tandem:

There's no fight we cannot win

Just you and I

Defying gravity

With you and I

Defying gravity

They'll never bring us down!

Well? Are you coming?

Emma began washing the dishes, still singing, thinking of adventure- and disobeying Jack.

**Well, do please drop a line and tell me what you thought!**

**-Austra**


	7. Chapter 7: Chores and Assignments

Emma finished drying the last dish. "Lion-a-mercy, but that was a _lot_ of dishes!"

Despite the fact Emma lived in a house with twelve people (including their three borders), and dishes were pretty constant, they had never equaled this load; and even if they had, that did not help to lessen the pain in her back and legs. "What a wouldn't give for a good chiropractor." She muttered. "This hurts like the dickens!"

She flopped down onto a rickety chair and longed for sleep.

But she had formulated a plan while washing dishes and was determined to put in play. "I _will_ prove Jack wrong! I can look after myself! He doesn't know about Will, or Alex, or all those other boys I beat! So _there,_ Jack Kelly!" and she gave the table beside her, from which rose a cloud of dust. She groaned. "No! No, no, no, no!" But the voice of common sense in her head replied, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!" and she knew that she couldn't prove herself today; not today. "Tomorrow," she promised herself. "I'll go tomorrow."

So she slid down off the chair and went hunting for cloths and soap and a bucket to start scrubbing the tables, the walls, and the floors.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Oh Kloppman, you old _darling!"_ Emma threw her arms around the old man's neck and kissed him. "This is _just_ what I needed to start off my kitchen! Thank you a million times! Garlic, bread, potatoes, a whole chicken bone with lots of meat still on it!- and carrots! Why, we'll have a regular feast! But I'm afraid it'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm too tired to cook anything tonight."

Kloppman was blushing. "Aw, it weren't nuthin'!" He muttered. "All I do is sit around and read anyway."

"Well, you are a perfect old duck! So there!" She frowned slightly. "Only next time, don't bring bread. I can make that." Then her face brightened. "But you're the first person I've ever known who brought me garlic without my asking. So for that, you win the prize."

She grinned up at him, amber eyes sparkling. "You're a wonder, Kloppman- and may I call you Kloppy?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

By the time the newsies came back home, Emma had scrubbed the kitchen until it shone. There hadn't been time for anything but the kitchen; but when the newsies came home, they received the surprise of their lives...

"All right, boys!" Emma bellowed. Back at home, she had been famous for her loud voice. "Line up right now! No silly business! I mean it!" She strode over to a table where Racetrack sat leisurely assuring Mush that there was no need to leave their poker game, and that women were unreasonable things. "You too, you noodle-nosed, cotton-brained, lazy laddie! Get in line _right now."_ If Racetrack had been one of her younger brothers or sisters, he would've realized she meant business. As it was, he got the rough end of things.

Emma grasped his collar, and, in a gesture fearful and wonderful to behold, threw him on the floor. "_Get in line, you-_" There was no need for her to finish her sentence; by the first two words, Racetrack had squished himself between Kid Blink and Jack with the most repentant and terrified air possible.

"Now!" Emma began impressively, "Here is what is going to happen. Let's start at the beginning of the line. You, Boots!"

"Sah!" Boots snapped to attentions and saluted smartly. Emma nodded and smiled in appreciation, and the boys all resolved to do the same.

"You, sirrah, will have the assignment of bringing to me all the dishes in this lodging house at the end of each day. Understood?"

"Sah, yessah!" Another salute, and Boots was back in line.

This performance was watched in open admiration, and then repeated, with varying degrees of success.

"Sir!" Snipeshooter, in an effort to "go and do likewise", hit himself in the forehead and instantly flung himself about, resulting in chaos, which, thanks to Emma's skill in intimidating, was hurriedly set to rights.

"Your job, Snipeshooter," Emma said with an appreciative smile at his attempt, for she had a sense of humour which overcame almost all, "will be to be my runner, and get things for me when I need them. In the market," she clarified. "And," she added, "that doesn't mean stealing." But she couldn't help tacking on, "Usually."

Snickers.

"Jack," Emma said, "I hate to bring this up, but... I will _not_ work in a kitchen which lacks safe cupboards and sharp knives. And the stove needs some work on it. Racetrack, Kid Blink- you will help him. Now then."- ignoring the "landed fish" expression on the boys' faces, she turned to Mush. "Sweep the floors once a week; you, Itey, mop them once a month." Despair filled their youthful faces, but Emma ignored it and went on to- "Skittery and Specs. You can change the sheets once every four months (if I can find some) and clean the bathrooms once a year. You are to help when and where it is needed, Dutchy.

"There," She finished, surveying the woeful company, "that's that."

"WHAT ABOUT CRUTCHY!" Everyone yelled.

"Crutchy," Emma took him by the shoulders, "you will encourage everyone." At the general protests that arose at this, she said, "It's not because of his crutch. It's because- I've had experience, and it really is necessary. And Crutchy is the best at it.

"We will begin tomorrow. After all, I have the hardest jobs- taking care of the house, looking after you, washing the dishes, cooking the meals!- gracious, it's a wonder I don't demand _payment_ as well!"

At this, the protests subsided and everyone betook themselves to bed.

And for the peace of mind for other writers, who have their heroines sleep in the same room as the newsies, she did _not_ do any such thing. She had a perfectly decent room all to herself- even if it was coated in dust, because she had neglected to clean it- and it was the first time in her entire life that she had slept anywhere with less than three other people in the room with her.

It was _very_ unsettling.

No wonder the next morning went as it did...


	8. Chapter 8: Setting Out

**A/N: Okay, guys, please don't tell me you don't remember me! Thus far, the only word I've gotten from any of you was from LucyOfNarnia! Lucy, you win the prize! Thanks so much for the review!**

**All you other guys- instead of R&R standing for read and review- it stands for Remember and Review!**

Emma very soon forgot she had ever known another home. Her accent stayed the same; her grammar, spelling, and general knowledge stayed the same; but everything else, her family, her friends, her function in life, was forgotten...

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Today!" Emma's heart sang as she sprang out of her very rickety bed, "Today is the day!"

She rang into the boys' room, and, espying a cowbell on the wall, took it down and danced up and down the room, ringing it heartily.

"SHUT UP!" The boys yelled in unison.

"Not till you get up!" Emma laughed at them.

The boys looked at one another.

"Irritation?" Suggested Specs.

"King?"

"Dictator?"

"Queen?"

"How about Captain?" Jack proposed.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I." She announced firmly, "will choose my own name, if and when I will. And until then, I refuse to respond to any but my own."

Everyone grinned and rolled their eyes, but she called, in an attempt to imitate their accents, "Now, sell da papahs! Carry da bannah!"

All the newsies marched downstairs, with both Kloppman and Emma counting them.

"There!" Emma said with a sigh of relief, as Boots passed her. "That's all!" She caught hold of Boots, and (who could resist?) gave him a little hug before he went out.

"Thanks, Emma," Kloppman said, smiling at her; "it hurt me ole back to go up and down them stairs every day. You're a good girl."

"Thanks." Emma smiled her usual bright grin and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go on and read, Kloppy; I'll take care of the house."

Her eyes twinkled as Kloppman shuffled away and she began the execution of her plan.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Knife, check." Emma mumbled to herself. "Another knife, check. One dime, check. Awesome leather shirt, check." She nodded, satisfied. "I would take a slingshot," she muttered, "but it's not worth the trouble.

"Well," she said triumphantly, "I'm off!"

Despite all the boys' shocked protests, she had insisted upon wearing simple, practical jeans and a very super awesome leather shirt which she had found for a shockingly low price (to the boys, it was _very_ expensive; but to Emma, it was merely a trifle- just five dollars, if you can imagine!). The boys had been affronted that she would spend it thus. The boys had also been more shocked then they had ever been in their lives when they found she had been casually carrying _twenty dollars _in her pocket! This astounded them for all of ten to fifteen seconds, before they all began trying to beg it off of her.

She had never been able to make out what they had been saying before she came 'round, however...

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

**_~FLASHBACK~_**

"What were you guys talking about?" Emma inquired curiously.

Mush, who had been assigned the duty of watching her temporarily, jumped. "Talking?- we weren't- talking. We were- um- just-"

"Mush, dear, you _were_ talking. Something about- a Refuge- and- girls."

Mush looked genuinely puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly, and refused to say anything more on the subject.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Emma looked over at the boys, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Wonder what they're talking about,_ she mused. _Wonder if I can get close enough to _hear_ what they're talking about._

She began edging nearer, but just then they abruptly stopped talking and turned.

"So- what did you say your name was?" Blink asked.

"Emma," she replied.

"Well, Emma," Jack said, "you can stay here 'till you find a place. But remember!- you'll have to earn your keep."

Emma promised she would.

**_~END FLASHBACK~  
_**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

All her life, Emma had been obsessed with sharp, pointy, shiney objects; as well as leather. So now that the time had come that she was able to have such things, she did so with a will- much to the consternation of the newsies, who thought the proper attire of a girl was a long skirt and a hat.

_Well, I'll prove _them_ wrong! _Emma thought triumphantly, and left the house using the door leading out into the alleyway.


	9. Chapter 9: A Key

Emma darted out onto the street, triumph filling her with a wonderful thrill. This was just as good (but not quite better than) sneaking out in the middle of the night to dance under the stars!

She decided to find some nice little gang with which to fight (which I do _not_ advise doing, seeing as it is extremely foolish and will most likely land you in the emergency room) and started down the street.

"Teehee!" She couldn't help saying, and kicked up her heels a little. Then she sobered and assumed an expression suited to the occasion.

"Well, _somebody _is excited." A voice drawled behind her. She jumped the ten feet high and whirled.

A young teenager with dark hair was lounging against a building, watching her with a sardonic smile.

"No," Emma said, always quick with an impudent answer, "those noises I was actually making were mournful noises, not excited ones." Her eyes twinkled saucily.

The boy looked temporarily startled, then slowly grinned. "Ya know," he said softly, advancing, "you're very pretty. I wonder- do you have the other virtue of possessing money?"

"Money?" Emma snorted. "Not likely." She continued to act nonchalant, but she decided to stab him as soon as he was close enough.

"Yeah well. I can at least take something else."

"That's not likely either." Her plan to stab him- as well as her movement to do so- would have worked if it hadn't been for one thing- the boy was quicker. He pulled his knife before she could get close to him.

_Well,_ Emma thought, wheeling to run,_ if I can't draw faster, at least I can run faster!_ Well, that might have worked, too- but for the inconvenient fact that two more boys were entering from the other end of the alleyway. Things were not looking so great.

0o0o0o0o0o0

_Well,_ Emma thought, seeing as she couldn't speak because of the gag, _this is just dandy._

Oh, yes- it _was_ just so dandy. And she was quite sure that was the way Jack would feel about it when he found her, trussed like a pig and dumped in an alleyway three streets down from the lodging house.

If he found her.

_Well,_ was her next thought, _There certainly won't be soup for dinner._ Then an even more dismal thought struck her. _You know, there probably won't be any dinner at all for me. For forever. _That did _not_ improve her spirits. _Now, that's not jolly._ Suddenly the romance was gone from street life. No food. Ever. No food. _And I'll bet,_ she thought gloomily, _that I'll bleed to death, too._

Oh, yes- I forgot to mention. She'd also gotten some nasty slashes.

_Well, I must keep my perspective. Let's see. Let's think of things that start with all the letters of the alphabet. Assassination. Behead. Collapse. Demise. Wow, this is really cheerful and encouraging. I wonder-_

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly by a sharp voice saying, "Hey, kid, you all right?"

_Yeah, dude. Like I can really answer you. Tied, gagged- yeah, I'm gonna monologue right now._

But then blue eyes were looking into her amber ones, then they were covered by blonde curls as he began to untie her- none to gently, either.

"Thanks," she gasped when he had gotten that accursed gag off of her.

"It was probably Tooth again." He muttered, then addressed her with the slightly rude-sounding question, "Who did this?"

"Dunno." she gasped, for now that she was untied, the pain was very acutely felt. "Dark hair, real tall, good-looking, dark eyes, annoying smile." She groaned. "I hate to ask this, but could you help me get home? Newsies Lodging House." Then a thought struck her. "Who are you?"

The boy looked a little startled. "Spot Conlon."

"I'm- well- uh- Queen." She chose the name randomly; she didn't want to give her real name.

"Queenie, huh?"

"**_No!"_** Emma replied with fervent vehemence. "_Not_ Queenie. _Never_ Queenie."

The boy called Spot grinned. "Just so happens, your destination is my destination." He held out his hand. Emma shook her head. "Sorry. Hurts. Can't." She shuddered as a spasm of pain went through her, then hesitated. "Could you just- pick me up? I- I can't walk. I just can't. Sorry."

"S'all right." The boy leaned down. As he did so, something fell out of his shirt and dangled down. She stared. It was a key.

She'd seen it- oh- what _was_ that- like someone tickling her mind- dancing in the back of her memory- a long time ago- a musty smell- writing- a desk- that was it!

"The key!" She blurted, then her eyes widened and she said, "If you don't mind- where did you get that key?"

He drew back, his hand closing protectively over the key.

Emma saw he would need convincing. "Look," she said gently, and, from her shirt, drew a key identical to the one he clutched in his grubby hand.


	10. Chapter 10: Who Has the Key?

**Just for you people who are Spot-lovers and can do his character justice: I'm sorry if his character may seem a little OOC to you. It was totally unintentional. **

The boy- Spot- stared in shocked silence before crying fiercely, "Where did you get that key?" He took Emma- or Queen- by the shoulders and shook her. "_Where_?"

Emma gave a piercing cry of agony. "Stop- stop!" She screamed. "I'll explain- stop!"

Spot stopped, but before he could draw back, they heard a voice. "_Emma_!"

It was Jack.

Emma slumped all the way onto the street, till she seemed totally formless, just part of the street. "Oooohhh..." she moaned softly.

"Conlon!" Jack's voice was menacing. "If you've been..."

"Kelly!" Spot backed off, his hands up. "I didn't do _anything._ She just..."

"I got attacked in an alleyway." Emma said weakly from the street. She wanted to find out the mystery of the key, and besides, she was quite sure Spot hadn't meant to hurt her. "He was just trying to help."

Jack's voice and face became one of shock. "Oh, Conlon- thanks."

Spot shrugged. "I come tah get that favor."

"Whaddya need, Conlon?" Now Jack sounded weary.

"Well..." Spot glanced down at Emma. "Let's get her home, and then I'll tell you 'bout it."

* * *

"How bad did they hurt ya, Emma?"

Emma glanced over at Spot. "My name is Queen." She said firmly.

The newsies glanced at one another, then turned back to her.

"Queenie?" They said simultaneously.

"_How many times do I have to go over this?_" Emma's voice trembled with fervent emotion. "**_Not_ **Queenie.** _Never_ **Queenie."

"Okay, okay." Jack backed off in the same attitude Spot had awhile ago.

"Now." Emma took a deep breath. "If you'll just get me the things I tell you to, I'll take care of myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Of cour- well, actually-" Emma hesitated. She _did_ need help; but she didn't want the boys to think she was a complete fruitcake. Reluctantly, she said, "Well- if one of you wants to volunteer, I won't refuse you."

Nobody moved. Emma groaned.

Jack looked sympathetic, and ordered, "All right, we'll have- Racetrack, Specs, and Skittery help. And me."

Spot cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh yeah- you wanted to talk to me." Jack remembered. "Well- you can help, and then we'll talk."

Spot sighed. "Whatever."

* * *

An hour and a great many pained noises later, an exhausted Emma- or Queen- emerged from the kitchen, where the "surgery" had taken place. She was leaning upon the arms of two very handsome leaders- Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon, but in a most unromantic fashion, for she looked as though she were about to fall off the two arms.

"Kelly," the one, Spot, complained, "how much further do we have to take her?"

"Up the stairs to her room."

He looked up in disbelief. "That'll take forever!"

Jack shrugged.

"I ain't puttin' up with it!" Spot announced, and to the shock and consternation of all present, but the maiden in particular, picked her up and one fell swoop and carried her up the stairs.

He did not emerge from the room for some time, and when he did, he looked slightly bewildered and clutched the key around his neck. "Kelly," he began; then broke off abruptly. "I don't need that favor." He said, then brushed past all the newsies and went out.

"Well!" said Boots, ever the first to speak. "I wonder what happened."

And nobody ever knew except two people...

* * *

**Emma POV:**

"Spot," Emma said weakly, but urgently, "where did you get that key?"

Spot closed his lips tightly.

"Patrick," Emma groaned, not seeing Spot's face. "Patrick... there's someone called... Patrick... had a mother... a letter..."

"Emma!" Spot crossed the room in one stride and knelt. "What happened to the mother?"

"Police-" Emma could not remember anything about her former life; all she could remember was something about a desk, a letter, a mother, and a son. "I think the police came... in the letter... said something about police coming..."

"Yes?"

"There was nothing in the letter after that," Emma said with conviction. Suddenly, a realization hit her so hard she gasped. "Spot- was it _your _mother?"

Spot's expression told her that is was; but it told a great deal more than that. "You- you hit hard times," Emma remembered, "you- Patrick, did you leave your family?"

Spot turned his face away.

"You did- then the bank was ruined-"

Spot's head jerked back to her face, staring at her. "You didn't know," Emma whispered. "You never got the letter."

Spot's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Emma held up the key. "How do I know this is the key to the desk?" She was taking a chance; gambling, as Race would say.

Apparently, the gamble went well; Spot's face went white.

"She had three desks, didn't she?" Emma prompted him.

He shook his head, confused.

Emma looked disappointed.

"Wait!" Spot exclaimed. "I've got it!" His face cleared. "Yes!" He cried excitedly.

"What?" Emma asked impatiently, trying not to sit up.

"Mam had three desks- but not at the same time. Da carved them when we moved."

"They had verses taped to them, right?"

"Yes."

"And you have the key to one of them-"

"And you have the other-"

They stared at each other. Finally Emma spoke. "Who has the third?" She whispered.

"And why?" Spot responded.

Then he stood abruptly. "Meet me at the docks in Brooklyn when you're better." He said shortly.

Then he left.


End file.
